


Transformation

by FalseRoar



Series: Traces of Silver [2]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Body Horror, Gen, Goretober 2019, Pre-Who Killed Markiplier?, forced transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23730493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalseRoar/pseuds/FalseRoar
Summary: Tonight's a full moon, and Damien and the District Attorney both know what that means.This was written for the Goretober 2019 prompt "Transformation" and takes place in the same werewolf/monster hunter au as Silver and Peppermint, so spoilers if you haven't read that yet. Contains light body horror and an unwilling transformation. Uses they/them/you for the District Attorney.
Relationships: Damien | The Mayor & Y/N | The District Attorney (Who Killed Markiplier?)
Series: Traces of Silver [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709179
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	Transformation

Damien knew it was going to be a rough night, even before he arrived at the attorney’s office, but the sight of the figure hunched over the desk, one hand to their head while the other flipped through one of the countless files scattered across the surface made him sigh.

Not that they looked up, not until he stopped in front of the desk and asked, “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

They looked up and he could see the color drained from their usual complexion, unless you counted the heavy bags under the red rimmed eyes, but still offered a smile. “Is that coffee for me?”

“Nope,” Damien said, pressing the lid to his lips and enjoying their brief disappointment before drawing another cup from behind his back to drop on the corner of the attorney’s desk. “That one’s yours. The barista sends his compliments and an unholy amount of peppermint.”

“You, sir, are an angel,” they said, giving a much more genuine smile as they drew the cup closer and took the lid off to better inhale the steam rising off of the coffee. They took a deep breath, the ever-present tension in their shoulders easing slightly.

But before they could take a sip, Damien put the lid back on the top and gently pulled it back toward himself. “Not until you pack up your stuff. It’s time to go, Y/N.”

“Just give me a couple of minutes, there’s still so much to do—”

“The sun will be going down soon,” Damien answered, cutting off the usual protest. There was always more work to be done. “We need to go if we want to make it in time.”

They looked around the office, but it was empty. It was a rare night that they weren’t the last one to leave, except for those occasions when the Mayor dropped by to force them to take a break.

“…Fine,” they said with a sigh. “Is it cold out?”

“You’ll need a jacket.”

Damien watched as they gathered their few possessions, saw how their hands shook as they fumbled with the buttons of the jacket until he stepped forward to help.

“I can do it myself,” they muttered, head turned aside but making no move to stop him.

“I know,” he said. “But you also have a tendency to skip buttons when you’re in a hurry, and it really is chilly out there.”

“I thought that was the point of the coffee.”

“No, the coffee was a bribe to get you out of the office and you know it.”

They chuckled, the sound close to Damien’s ear as he stepped back, but it was a tired sound. Nothing close to the laughter he loved to hear from his friend when the rare opportunity presented itself.

They were so quiet on the walk back to Damien’s house that he found himself glancing over at them far too often, but when they did not have the cup of coffee with its heavy scent of peppermint held close, they were watching the people passing by, the movement in the buildings near the street, the way the streetlights began to turn on in the growing twilight.

Damien swore at that last sight. He should have brought the car today, they could have already been there.

The attorney spared a hand from their cup to touch his arm.

“It’s okay. We have plenty of time.”

He knew they would know better than anyone, but it was still a relief when they finally reached the drive to his house, when the front door swung shut behind them while he turned on the lights. Unlike his sister and her husband, he made no point of hiring servants and was not given to having parties, and with his nearest neighbors some distance away, there was no one to question who he may or may not bring home with him, or how regular these visits might be.

Much better than the attorney’s apartment in the center of the city, convenient for getting to work but not so convenient for the other aspects of their life. When he had first proposed this arrangement, years ago, back in university, they had tried to turn him down, worried about the burden, what it would do to _him_ if anyone were to find out. Like the alternative was any better for him. Now, it was as routine as could be expected, all things considered.

“The room is ready, I put down some new blankets, and…” Damien trailed off when he saw their expression and said, “Right. Sorry.”

They set their empty cup down and turned away from him while they unbuttoned their jacket, no doubt to keep him from trying to help again. Damien pulled off his own coat and hung it by the door, where he added the attorney’s jacket when they handed it over. Without it, he could see the goosebumps on their arms, the tension back in their shoulders again not quite enough to hide the tremor that ran up and down their spine.

“Hey,” Damien said, pulling his friend into a hug and resting his chin on their shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. It always is.”

“Yeah,” they said with a small voice, and he could feel their hand gripping the back of his shirt, holding on tight before they slowly relaxed. “I know.”

“I’m glad you’re here,” Damien said, but there was no response this time. He hoped they knew he meant it, every time he said it, even on nights like this. Especially on nights like this.

They went to the room. It was downstairs, in the basement, almost directly in the center of the house. Damien had tried to make it comfortable, with chairs and blankets and what decorations he could, but there was no disguising the stone walls or lack of windows, or the thick door whose key was in his pocket now.

There was no clock in this room, except for the watch on Damien’s wrist. The attorney didn’t need one, not for this. That said, he wondered about his friend’s reassurances of plenty of time when by the time the two of them reached the basement room they were already leaning on him. He could feel the heat radiating from their shivering body as he led them into the room and eased them into a chair before turning back to the door.

The key was already in the lock when he heard the voice behind him, the whisper.

_“Damien.”_

The lock clicked and the key was back in his pocket as Damien crossed the room and pulled his friend into an embrace.

“It’s okay. I’m here, Y/N. I’m always here.”

Every month, he was here with you. Every full moon, as the one change you could not deny or control came over you, as your entire body from your toes to your teeth cried out in agony, as bones shifted and cracked under the arms that would not let you go.

Damien held on, even as the hands holding him became paws, the nails claws that caught and tore in his shirt, as you gave way to the screams that no one outside of this house would hear, should never hear as long as he could keep you safe. Bones and muscles writhed as your chest heaved, gasping for air, tears rolling down your cheeks and his until it was finally over.

Damien felt the body go limp in his arms and carefully laid the massive wolf down on a blanket already spread out. Your breaths were sharp, fast and ragged, and you did not seem to have the strength left to open your eyes, much less move. He had seen you slip in and out of this form so many times, so easily, but he had also seen this struggle every month in time with the full moon. You called it the nature of the curse, but to him, who saw how it tore at you and stole away your control, it felt more personal than that. It felt like a fight, and one that was not getting any easier with time.

If anything, it was—

The thought was interrupted by a low, faint whine, and Damien pressed the rest of that train of thought out of his mind as he put a hand next to your ear and whispered, “Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s going to be okay. It’ll be over soon.”

“I promise, I’m not going anywhere without you.”


End file.
